


A New Dawn

by WinterFire



Category: Throne of Glass Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Doraelin, F/M, com, hof, mate au, qos, tog - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-23
Updated: 2015-12-23
Packaged: 2018-05-08 15:06:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5502221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WinterFire/pseuds/WinterFire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam was supposed to be her mate, but after emerging from the darkness of Endovier nearly a year after losing her mate, she touches Dorian Havilliard - and discovers that she's been given a second chance at having a mate. This time, she's determined to never lose him, as she lost Sam.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A New Dawn

**Author's Note:**

> AU in which Celaena and Dorian discover that they’re mates the first day they meet. The plot stays the same, with slight variations centered around Dorian being her only relationship. Spans the entire current timeline. Time jumps are indicated with *** Also mates can feel each other’s pain, which i’m pretty sure isn’t a thing in the books but im going with it anyway. For Laura/@dorianhavilliar on tumblr for the TOG secret santa exchange

It’d been a year since Celaena’s soulmate died and she’d been sent to Endovier. Endovier was horrible enough on its own, but with Sam gone, it’d been near impossible. Still, she adjusted the manacles around her wrists and stared at the prince before her. He was standing close enough to her that the Captain beside her was practically vibrating with the strain, but she had no intention of killing the prince - at least, not yet. The prince circled her, and as he turned to her back, his hand strayed across her bare skin, and the world exploded.

Celaena found herself on the floor, the captain’s sword at her neck. Lifting herself up slightly, she could see the prince also on the floor, looking confused. Her breath caught as their gazes met, and panic rose in her chest. She’d felt this before. She’d felt the sun within her chest before. Sam had been her soulmate. People only got one, but she nothing could imitate the feeling in her heart, and it was because the Crown Prince of Adarlan touched her. Turning over, she vomited onto the cool marble.  
With the Captain’s sword still at her neck, she slowly sat up. The distrust on his face offended her. “I didn’t do anything,” she hissed, and he looked over to his prince, who was sitting in the same manner, eyes wide. In that moment, she knew that no one could ever know. He was the Crown Prince of Adarlan. His father had sentenced her to die in Endovier. No one could ever know.

“Are you hurt?” the captain asked, and Dorian pushed himself to his feet, eyes on still on her.  
“No,” he answered, and Westfall took it as an opportunity to yank Celaena to her feet. The chains rattled as she tried to steady herself. She forced herself to look away from the prince, even though she wanted to stare at him for the rest of her life.  
“Now can we get on with this? You didn’t bring me out of the mines to chat,” she said, forcing her usual brusqueness into her voice. The prince hesitated a moment, but then began to speak.

****  


The trip back to the castle was torture. Every piece of her body, down to the blood in her veins, longed to touch him, to be near him. She settled for watching him whenever possible, which was most of the day, since she and the captain rode behind him in the convoy. The ride back to the city was spent alternating between admiring Dorian, admiring the world as it’d been before Endovier, and pondering a way out of this situation. She could always run, of course, and end it now, but the word free kept echoing in her head, and her eyes always found the prince whenever she thought of it. No. She couldn’t leave him behind. Even if she could never truly be with him, she could be near him.  
Chaol Westfall spent a lot of time staring at her suspiciously, and she spent a lot of time diverting his attention from her interest in Dorian. It worked, mostly, until one night when she heard footsteps outside of her tent. Instinctively, she reached for a knife, only to curse silently when she remembered that she didn’t have one. Rising to a crouch, she waited for a blow.

The prince’s voice drifted towards her, and she subconsciously relaxed. When his face appeared in the split between the flaps, she settled back on her heels. “You shouldn’t be here,” she said quietly, but he slipped inside anyway.  
“We need to talk,” he whispered back, and she cringed. “I understand why you’ve been pretending nothing happened, but I can’t anymore.”  
“It’s too dangerous. The captain will hear about this little visit.”  
“He won’t.”  
“You can’t know that for sure. Just go. We can talk at the castle.”  
Dorian hesitated, and she slowly reached for him, hand trembling as she grabbed his. “Dorian,” she said, “please.” His grip tightened around her hand, and his eyes were full of emotion, but he said, “Okay.” Extricating his hand from hers, he slowly backed out of the tent.

****  


Somehow, Dorian managed to keep the captain from learning about his visit, and he even managed to talk to her without Chaol becoming suspicious. Celaena still wanted to grab hold of him and never let go, but hearing his voice, his laugh… it made her delirious with happiness she never expected to have again. After the dark of the mines, he was almost too bright for her to handle.

****  


Bitch, Celaena thought, watching the trio of women walking underneath her balcony. The jealousy flaring in the pit of her stomach burned hot and wild, and she wanted to strangle the woman trying to attract her mate’s attention. Freedom kept echoing in her thoughts, and it was the only thing keeping her from vaulting off the balcony and throttling the woman right there. Until she suggested that Celaena was a harlot, and the assassin couldn’t stop herself from throwing a flower pot and taking immense satisfaction in the ensuing screams.

*****  


She’d felt the phantom pain before, when Sam got himself into numerous fights. She wasn’t expecting it now, however. She knew what it was, having been slapped across the face more than once. Only one person would dare to touch the prince like that, and the knowledge only made her fear facing the king more - not for her safety, but for what she would want to do to the man who hurt her mate.

She was right to worry. Standing in front of the king, Dorian just feet away, she was shaking with the effort to not attack the king. His dark aura was terrifying, and it brought back memories of being captured, but all she could think about was the slight shadow across Dorian’s cheek. His eyes had caught hers as they slid across his face, taking note of the bruise. His jaw tightened at the anger in her eyes. Clenching her fists, she did her best to appear unperturbed, especially when she accidentally caught the king’s gaze and her smirked at her, as if he knew all her secrets. Only Arobynn’s extensive training kept her from taking a step back or taking a step forward.

Dorian had waited for them - for her - after the meeting. He lounged casually against the wall, and her breath actually caught at seeing him. All she wanted was to touch him, but she refrained, focusing on breathing evenly. The prince was even more confident here, at home, and he actually teased her, walking close enough to allow the backs of their hands to brush. Chaol was acting as if this was normal, and Celaena relaxed just enough to smile at her mate’s antics.

The bitch was back. She’d clearly been waiting Dorian to walk this way. Kaltain Rompier had no idea that Celaena had thrown a flower pot at her head earlier, but the leftover satisfaction from that moment kept her from attacking the other woman when she put her hands on Dorian. And his reaction helped; he clearly wasn’t fond of her either.

****  


Between training, competitions, and her friendship with Nehemia, Celaena and Dorian rarely found time to spend together, away from prying eyes. But they found ways to make it work. She told him about Sam, about experiencing this for the second time. He told her about his father. She told him that Arobynn found her, half-dead, when she was eight. She didn’t tell him about anything before that.

****  


The competition was over. She had won, but there was a cost to all of this. She remembered Dorian picking her up, holding her, in front of everyone. If they knew, if they had any inkling of how deeply they felt for one another… Even through the poison, she’d worried about him feeling her pain with everyone watching. “Do they know?” she asked, feeling the rhythm of walking. Dorian tucked his head closer.  
“Shh,” he quieted. “It’s over. You can rest.” His arms, his voice… He was so warm, so comforting. She turned her face into him and envisioned Chaol’s sword in Cain’s stomach until darkness took her.

*****  


Celaena didn’t know how Dorian could look at her the same anymore. She’d been killing for his father. She’d had to disappear into herself, to be the assassin Arobynn had shaped her to be. That assassin didn’t have room for a mate, which was exactly why Arobynn had hated Sam. Every day, every touch, every kiss, was a knife on its edge. Everything she did was dangerous.  
Dorian was in her bed reading while she paced. “I need to tell you something,” she finally said. He caught the serious tone in her voice and set the book aside. She climbed onto the bed beside him and rested her head on his chest. His arm wound around her waist and she relaxed into his warmth. “I haven’t been killing the people your father sends me to kill,” she whispered, and Dorian’s arm tensed around her.  
“He could kill you,” was all he said, and the fear in his voice was for her, but the relief was for him. He had never wanted her to have to kill for his father.  
“I know what I’m doing. I’m going to be okay,” she assured, but he pulled her closer and tilted his face into her hair.  
“I can’t lose you, Laena.”  
“I would never make you lose me,” she replied. He knew she still ached for Sam, and she didn’t want him to ever feel that.

******  


She didn’t know how they could get away with kidnapping the Crown Prince of Adarlan, but they had. She wasn’t sure even she could’ve done that. But they’d taken him because they knew she loved him. They may not know about the mate bond, but she loved him, and they took him for it. “What are you going to do?” Chaol asked. He’d found the note and brought it to her. Her hands shook, the paper shaking with her.  
“That depends. What are you going to do?”  
“I’ll follow your lead on this one, Celaena. We both love him, but I can only do so much.”  
“I’m going after him. I’d suggest not telling the king, at the least not until we come back.” Her mate wasn’t hurt - she would’ve felt that. Apparently kidnapping the prince and actually hurting him were two different things, a line that they wouldn’t cross. They had no idea that there were no lines she wouldn’t cross for him.

****  


Nehemia was dead. Nehemia was dead and she would never know that Celaena had a mate. She would never know her true name. She would never again light up a room. Dorian had followed her back from the warehouse, and all she could do was stare blankly at him. Chaol tried to grab her arm, and the slightest brush of his fingers against her skin broke her. “YOU KNEW,” she screamed, because she didn’t need his confirmation of what Archer had told her. She knew in her core that Nehemia had been threatened and Chaol didn’t tell her. She was going to kill him. She would absolutely kill him.  
Dorian stopped her. That burst of magic he’d been hiding. He’d told her, but she’d never felt that kind of raw power. She wanted to tear into that power, but the darkness took her too quickly.

****  


It wasn’t physical pain that Celaena was feeling, but the dark anger and pain within her was still radiating out to him. She’d been in the dungeon for days, the worst days of his life, and now that she was out, he couldn’t know what she would do. The dark anger had faded, replaced with something numb, something cold. He didn’t go to her, not yet. He knew that she wouldn’t want him now.

When the anger returned, he braced himself. For what, he didn’t know, but he did know that whatever her next move was, it wouldn’t be pretty. So when she stormed into the council room, head in hand, he wasn’t surprised. It still disgusted him to see the blood still occasionally dripping from the head as it swung from her hand. It made a squelching noise as she put it in front of Minister Mullison. Holy gods, he thought, watching her as she lounged across an empty chair. His father, Chaol, the ministers - they were all alternating between the head and her. Chaol’s face was set in fury, his father’s carefully composed. Dorian himself kept his eyes on Celaena. He could still feel her pain, but it was sharp, cutting. When she’d cut through Archer’s men, when she’d attacked Chaol for not telling her about Nehemia, she’d been dark and wild, but this was different. Nothing good could come of this path. It hurt him more than it should have, to see the woman he loved become something so dark and desperate.

*****  


Dorian was waiting for her when she returned, still drenched in blood. He was sitting on the edge of her bed, hands clasped and eyes weary. She stopped in the doorway and stared until he noticed her. “I expected you to come here first,” he said quietly.  
“I had one last thing to take care of,” she replied, and shrugged out of her cloak, letting it fall to the floor. Her talk with Archer hadn’t improved her mood. “Have you talked to Chaol?”  
“My father asked him to stay behind. Probably to yell at him. I haven’t gotten a chance yet.”  
“When you see him…” she trailed off, then shook her head. “It doesn’t matter.”  
“He has a lot of questions. About Archer, and Nehemia. I do too.” Something in his words cooled the fire still blazing in her bright eyes. She blinked slowly.  
“I’ll answer them as best I can. Just let me clean up.” He nodded and she left. A few moments later, he heard the bath begin to run.

When she stepped out of the bathroom, Dorian was asleep on her bed. Unwilling to disturb him - and putting off answering his questions - she left him there and went to Nehemia’s room to pack up her things.

Dorian was still waiting for her when she returned, forcing her to put her trip to Elena’s tomb on hold. She sat with him for a while, and he held her until she was ready to talk.

****  


All she could think was that she’d put Dorian in danger. Her Dorian was here, within reach of the monster, and she could barely stand upright. She could barely think. Fleetfoot and Chaol, both of them through the portal. She made a snap decision and twisted herself out of Dorian’s grasp, running for the portal. He yelled something after her, but she ignored him, running through the portal with Damaris in hand.

With the monster gone, she knew she had to get back to her world before the portal closed. The magic had drained her, and she couldn’t get to the portal. Then hands were on her, and she knew instantly that it was Dorian. She wanted to shove him out of that world, but was too weak. He dragged her out, and her thoughts turned to the portal. Chaol was standing as far from her as he could, his face unreadable. He’d seen her change, and from the look in Dorian’s eyes, he had too. Dorian, however, was still touching her, still reaching for her. She let him hold onto her, mind racing.

When the portal was closed, she went after Archer.

****  


After the healer was gone, she asked both prince and captain to stay. She didn’t want to talk to Chaol, not when he looked at her like that, but he deserved to know. She could feel Dorian’s hurt, and it wasn’t just physical. He’d known that she hadn’t told him everything about her, but learning about her Fae heritage in such a way was a poor one. “I should’ve told you,” she started with. “You shared your magic with me, and I should’ve shared mine. But I’ve spent so much time fearing it, and fearing what would happen if anyone knew. Even if I knew I could trust you, I couldn’t make myself say it.”  
“I understand,” he said, reaching for her hand. She let him hold it, then turned her attention to Chaol.  
“You’re my friend, and for that, I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you.”  
“I know why you didn’t,” he replied.

Taking a breath, Celaena closed her eyes and told them about her great-grandmother, the power in her family. She told them about fearing her magic even when no one was hunting her for it. Even as she told them what she’d never told anyone, she still left out some of the most important parts. She didn’t expect either to buy the whole story, but she refused to apologize for her secrets.

When she was done, Chaol left. She had avoided mentioning the mate bond between her and Dorian, which she addressed first. “It’s up to you whether or not to tell him about us,” she said. “He’s been your friend for much longer and he should hear it from you.”  
“This mate thing, it’s because you’re Fae, isn’t it?”  
“Yes. That’s why you’ve never heard of it. It’s true that it is rare, but not nearly as rare as I had you believe.”  
“How could you hold onto so many secrets, Celaena? How has it not eaten you up?”  
“I don’t know,” she replied, softer this time, and he laid back on the bed and pulled her into him. “There’s more I need to tell you, but I have to take care of Archer’s body.”  
“Go quickly. I’ll be in my room when you’re done.”

It was late when Celaena finally slipped into his room. A book was open before him, but the glassy look in his eyes told her that he wasn’t actually reading. They settled onto the bed, propped up with pillows. She absorbed the comfort of his touch for a few minutes while she gathered the courage to tell him the rest of it. All of her secrets, everything she was and everything she knew, he had to know. He had to know about his father, and the power he wielded. “I haven’t told anyone this. I don’t want to admit it, but I owe you.”  
“You don’t owe me anything,” he was quick to interject, but Celaena shook her head.  
“Maybe not, but you deserve to know. It’s- it’s going to be hard. You’re not going to want to hear it. You’re going to want to do something with it. I’m asking you not to, but I understand if that changes.”  
“Just tell me, Celaena,” he said, and she winced slightly.  
“To start with, Celaena isn’t my true name.”

****  


Chaol wanted to send her away because of what he’d seen that night. He wanted her far away from here. Dorian was shaking, anger rolling off of him as he stared down his best friend, but Celaena ignored them both, focusing on maintaining her own act. The king was delighted with this plan, and she did her best to mirror him while she stood before him. As soon as she was dismissed, she left the room and pressed her forehead to the wall. She had no choice, that much she knew. If she was to keep her friends safe, she had to leave and do what the king demanded. And Chaol was the one who’d back her into this corner.

They both found her after they were dismissed, Dorian immediately reaching for her while Chaol stood a distance away, waiting. “You have no idea what you’ve done,” Dorian hissed, not even looking at his friend.  
“I’m doing what I have to. What she is, Dorian… she can’t stay here.”  
“You say that like it’s a problem,” he retorted, and Chaol frowned.  
“It is. She’s putting us all in danger.” Dorian was about to argue further, but Celaena put a hand on his shoulder.  
“It’s okay, Dorian. I’ll go.”  
“They’re Ashryvers,” Dorian hissed. Celaena glanced at Chaol, hoping he would have no idea what that meant to her.  
“I’ll figure it out. I always do. If I don’t leave, both of you are in danger. Nehemia’s family is in danger. I have to do this.”  
Dorian pressed his face into her hair. “I’m doing what I have to. Hate me if you must, but please understand.”  
“I understand, Chaol,” she replied. Dorian’s hold on her tightened, and she knew he didn’t understand. Perhaps he never would. He was different from her and Chaol. They were hard, unflinching, and Dorian wasn’t. The captain nodded and took a few steps back.  
“I’m sorry,” he said, then turned and walked away. Dorian didn’t let go.

“If he knew, he wouldn’t send you to your best allies. Do you understand that? If he knew your real name, he wouldn’t trust you ever again,” he said.  
“It doesn’t matter anymore. It’s too much to fight.”

They spent the night together. He whispered her name in the darkness, acknowledging everything she was: assassin, princess, queen. She avoided thinking about how it would feel to sail away from him tomorrow. “When I’m gone,” she whispered in the early hours of the morning, “tell Chaol the truth. He can’t change anything once the ship has left, and he needs to know someday.”  
“If you think it’s wise,” he replied, too tired to argue.  
“I don’t think it’s wise,” she amended. “I think we both need him to know all our secrets. Tell him about the Wyrdkeys too. If you both work together, you’ll be able to do more.”  
“Any other impossible requests?”  
“Try not to miss me too much.”

******  


Aedion Ashryver walked into the castle, and Dorian immediately thanked the gods that Aelin was gone. If they were ever seen together, everyone would know who she was. Aedion was the male version of her, close enough to be twins. He glanced at Chaol, and for once was glad that he’d sent her away. And not just because she would be recognized, but because it would break her heart to see how fully her cousin was under his father’s control. That black ring on his finger was identical to the one on Perrington’s finger. He’d already told Chaol all of her secrets, and the two of them sat and stared at Aedion. He was so much like her, so full of power and cunning. He was a mirror of her, with even more recklessness and a penchant for causing as much trouble as possible. And he knew how to push everyone, and the more he pushed, the more Dorian could feel his magic rising. Chaol seemed to sense it, however, and steered him out of there before anything disastrous could happen.

****  


“Aedion doesn’t stay at the parties he throws,” Chaol said quietly, glancing around them. They were training together, which wasn’t nearly as fun as it used to be, now that things had changed. But no one paid attention to them here, and it was a safe place to talk.  
“What do you mean?”  
“He puts on a show of being there, then quietly slips away.”  
“What’s he doing?”  
“I don’t know, but I’m going to follow him and find out.”  
“Be careful. You saw that ring. And we both know what he’s capable of.”  
“I’ll be careful.”

****  


Aedion Ashryver, Wolf of the North and Adarlan’s Whore, Dorian Havilliard, Crown Prince of Adarlan, and Chaol Westfall, Captain of the Guard - the three most unlikely to ever be caught conspiring together. They’d started meeting in the catacombs. Aedion had gone to Elena’s tomb once, but had quickly left. “She’s the only one that belongs there,” he’d explained then. Now they met in an empty room down one of the other hallways.

They were there one night, lounging in various positions around the room as Aedion and Chaol told Dorian about what they’d been doing outside the castle, about Ren and Murtagh and their efforts against the king, when pain shot through Dorian. It’d been happening so often lately that he barely registered it, and cared even less, but he was unprepared this time, and jerked violently. Both men stopped talking and stared at him. He waved his hand. “Sorry, muscle cramp,” he said. He’d been able to explain away the pain to Chaol, and it worked this time too, but Aedion stared at him with his Ashryver eyes, so intuitive, so knowing.

“Holy gods,” he finally breathed, and closed his eyes, tilting his head to the sky. “Please tell me her mate is not Dorian Havilliard.”  
Dorian jerked to his feet, suddenly defensive. He couldn’t tell if it was for his pride or hers. Aedion opened his eyes at the movement, fixing Dorian with his stare again. “So that’s how the two of you know everything, then? She told you because she can’t keep secrets from her mate, and you told him because you needed an ally?”  
“She gave me permission to tell him once she was gone,” Dorian said, then glanced at Chaol. He was frowning, arms crossed over his chest. Looking back to Aedion, he said, “You should explain. You’re the one who understands the Fae.” Aedion rolled his eyes.  
“Fae are intended to have a soulmate in the world. Few are lucky enough to find their mate, and a theory exists that not everyone has one. Mates, once found, can feel each other’s pain, so that they always know when the other is in danger.” Here he nodded at Dorian. “It’s usually hard to hide the fact that you’re feeling someone else’s pain in your body, resulting in odd movements and bad explanations.”

Chaol was staring at Dorian, face unreadable. “So Dorian and Aelin are linked irreversibly and can feel each other’s pain,” he repeated. “That’s hardly fair to you,” he added a moment later, still looking at his friend. “Celaena - Aelin - has a tendency to walk through every bramble in the land.” Dorian shook his head.  
“You have no idea. It’s mostly been the kind of pain that she likes, which means she’s training, but it’s still not fun.”

Aedion’s eyes were closed again. “You do understand that someday this will be a problem?” he asked.  
“We’ll worry about that when it comes to it.”  
“Do only Fae have mates?” Chaol asked, still trying to understand.  
“As a rule, yes, but they can have mortal mates. It’s even more rare, but it’s been known to happen.”  
“And they only have one?”  
“I’ve never heard of someone having more than,” Aedion replied.  
“I have,” Dorian said quietly. Aedion’s eyes finally opened, staring suspiciously at him.  
“And what would you know of it?”  
“His name was Sam, and he was Celaena’s mate. Until he died. She was sent to Endovier just days after, and when she met me, she felt the same thing.”  
Aedion stared at him for a moment, then shook his head with a smile. “Only my cousin could bend the rules of the universe and get away with it,” he said, somewhere between exasperation and affection. Dorian smiled back.

****  


Chaol worked with Aedion outside of the castle, and Dorian focused on his magic inside the castle. A healer was helping him, a woman named Sorscha. She helped him find ways to control his own power, and gave him the friendship he needed. The rift between him and Chaol had left him without a confidant, and she quickly became that for him.

So when he was called before his father, along with Aedion, Chaol, and Sorscha, his first thought was to protect her. Aedion and Chaol had chosen treason, and Dorian had chosen to stand with them, but if his friendship with Sorscha put her in danger, he would protect her.

With each word passed between his father and his friends, he could see clearly the web the king was spinning. One, to catch Aedion. Two, to reveal Sorscha as a spy. Three, to hurt Dorian. And four, to force Dorian’s hand in magic. He didn’t see it until too late, until he was kneeling at his father’s feet for Sorscha’s life. Before he could do anything, her head hit the floor. Aedion was screaming as he was hauled away, and Chaol had gone still. As Dorian scrambled for Sorscha, he heard the scrape of a sword being drawn, and looked to Chaol. His oldest friend had his sword out and was staring down the king. His next words lifted his heart. He had called him his king, even with all the pain between them. So when he heard the snap of a crossbow, he didn’t hesitate to step right into his father’s web.

As he held onto his magic, he looked at Chaol, desperately hoping that he would tell Aelin everything, that at least one person would get to her. Chaol would help her free Aedion, and then help her free the rest of Erilea. “Go,” he commanded. “Tell her I love her.”

******  


There was something wrong in the world. It was reaching across the ocean to grab at her, demanding that she do something. She paced in front of the fire, and Rowan watched her. Through her and their new blood bond, he could feel it as well. Her gut roiled, and then Dorian’s pain hit her. It wasn’t physical, not this time. This time, it was as if a branding iron had been shoved into her heart, and she doubled over. Whatever was happening, she was too far away to stop it.

She knew the exact moment that her mate was gone. She’d felt it before, the opening of a void after a swift departure. The breath was knocked out of her as she dropped to her knees. Her mate was gone from the world. Again. She’d failed to protect the only person who mattered. Again. Tilting her head back, she bared her Fae teeth and roared into the night. Rowan knelt beside her, not touching her, not speaking. The bond allowed him to understand, and he stayed with her until she could breathe again.

“Only one person could kill him,” she whispered finally, voice ragged. “Only one. And he will pay. He’ll pay for all of it.” Where Sam’s death had destroyed her, Dorian’s was fueling her rage. Even in her darkest moments, she’d never felt anything like this. It was dark and bloody and demanded that she bathe in the blood of a certain king. He would face retribution, and she would happily hand it to him.

******  


Arobynn was teasing her. He liked that he knew more than her, that he had more power than her. And he enjoyed the way her world stopped when he told her about Aedion, when he hinted that something had happened in the castle. She knew what had happened there, but he didn’t know that. Her mate had died there. But then… “Did you say at the prince’s birthday?” she asked, and he cocked his head slightly.  
“I did.” She tried to control herself, tried to hide what that meant to her, but her heart was throwing itself against her ribs and her hands were shaking.  
“Aedion will be executed at the prince’s birthday celebration,” she repeated, and Arobynn studied her, trying to find the second truth behind her words. “What happened at the castle - did something happen to the prince?”  
“Not that I’m aware of,” he said, stepping past the question.  
Taking in a breath, she forced herself to move past it. Arobynn wouldn’t give her answers, and continuing to press the issue might reveal too much. She let Arobynn steer the rest of the conversation.

Chaol stepped out of the darkness, eyes immediately moving to her, then to the weapons she still held. He sent the others ahead, then turned his attention to her. “Tell me,” she whispered. “Tell me what happened.”  
“This isn’t the place.”  
“I need to know, right now. Is he still alive?” Her hands were shaking again, and she hated the tears in her eyes.  
“Which one of them?”  
“Dorian. Is Dorian alive?”  
“I thought you could feel that kind of thing.”  
“I can, and I can’t feel him anymore. Is he still alive?”  
“Yes, but there’s more to it. This isn’t the place. Meet me in 40 minutes.” He named an address, then hurried away. She stared after him, heart aching. When he looked at her, he didn’t have any of the old friendship in his eyes. The months since Nehemia’s death had torn something between them forever. But that didn’t matter. She had to know what happened to her mate, and Chaol was the only one who could tell her.

He was so cold to her, so angry at the world. He’d wanted to save Dorian, to save everyone, but now he was a shadow of himself. She could see right through him, and she could see how he hated her magic. He wouldn’t tell her how to free it because of her magic, and because he still feared what she would do with it. Her friend hated what she was.

But that knowledge was shadowed by the knowledge that Dorian was alive - and trapped. Trapped in that collar, fed on by a demon. She couldn’t feel him anymore, and she was beginning to believe that the Valg demon had destroyed the man she loved already. It would be kinder to kill him.

******  


She had Dorian at her mercy, the Valg prince trapped inside the body trapped in a Wyrdmark. The sword hovered over him as her heart broke again and again. Her mate, her Dorian. He was truly gone, and as she lowered the sword, she found that she was physically incapable of completing the blow. Mates couldn’t hurt one another, but she’d thought that since Dorian was gone, she would be able to.

It didn’t matter in the end. Nesryn was there to stop her, and then she and Aedion had to run before more guards caught up with them. Holding her cousin, she searched again for the soul of her mate, but still found nothing. She wanted to cry. She wanted to fall apart and become nothing, but the solid weight of Aedion reminded her to keep going, or they wouldn’t be alive much longer.

*******  


They were waiting for the right moment to get Lysandra out, and Aelin felt something flare inside her. Something was reaching, calling -  
But the witch stepped away from Dorian, and whatever she’d felt disappeared. Her mate was still gone. She had to turn her attention away from him then. She’d come back for him, when the time was right. Now, she needed to save her friend.

*******  
WITCH KILLER - THE HUMAN IS STILL INSIDE HIM  
*******  


“Did you think that I could not peer inside my son’s mind and ask what he knows, what he saw the day of your cousin’s rescue? And what an interesting thing to see. Celaena Sardothien is Aelin Galathynius. And, even better, my son is her mate.” Her eyes snapped to Dorian then. His face was impassive, the demon’s hold strong. “How interesting. After all this time, Havilliard and Galathynius could be joined again. Imagine the power. Too bad it’ll never happen. You’ll never leave this castle alive.”

“Dorian,” she gasped. Her mate was here, was in front of her. She could touch him, but he was still so far away. “We get to come back from this. I’m your mate. Your Aelin. Please. Please fight it.”

“Did you kill Chaol?” Dorian demanded, and Aelin could only stare as everything came rushing back. Dorian was here. He was alive, and she could feel him at last. She couldn’t help the tears on her cheeks as she reached out to him, their fingers intertwining as they faced the king. His black power snapped towards them, but power flickered between them, and the darkness couldn’t touch them. They were together, whole and alive. They erupted.

**Author's Note:**

> Laura, I hope you enjoyed it! I really enjoyed writing it, even if I did cry a few times. Merry Christmas!


End file.
